I Left my Heart in Israel
by K-Shandra
Summary: He hates Valentines, especially when everyone is so cheerful and mushy, because he had no reason to be.


**Title** : I Left My Heart in Israel  
 **Genre** : NCIS – Romance /Angst.  
 **Pairing** : Tony and Ziva.  
 **Rating** : M  
 **Timeline** : AU Season 10/11  
 **Spoilers** : None  
 **Summary** : He hates Valentines, especially when everyone is so cheerful and mushy, because he had no reason to be.  
 **Disclaimer** : No, not mine, but wish they were…  
 **A/N** : Yes, I know, Valentines Day is so far gone…. But Missy wanted to play.

Down here in the south, our local broadcaster finally got to season 10 (currently screening), so I can no longer claim ignorance to Ziva's departure…  
 **Written** : May 2015  
 **Language** : International English.  
 **Word Count** : 5,383

❤ *·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.· **TIVA** ·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·* ❤

Tony closed his apartment door and leant back against it. He hated Valentine's Day. Hated it. It had never been like that before… Before then, because before then he'd actually enjoyed it, looked forward to it. Which DiNozzo didn't? Women were drunk on the idea of love and valentines, and he'd had his fair share of valentine one nighters. But since her… since his return, the whole day only seemed to annoy and infuriate him… And everyone's behavior

Abby, Abby had been the worst of them all! Yes, he knew she liked the special day's, liked to make a fuss of it, but it had been just too much. Whenever they had been in the same room, same space, she had glanced at him so many times he had wanted to scream, hit something. He knew what she wanted to know, what she wanted to ask, only he could not voice it aloud. He could not tell her that which she wanted to hear, he could not admit, not even to himself, that it was possibly over – for good – that she had moved on. It had been hard enough to accept that contact between him and the feisty little ninja had been nonexistent, since before Christmas.

As it was, he had fought the desire, several times, to ask her if she had any contact with Ziva, had received any word from her. Everyone always seemed so weary of mentioning her name around him, and he needed that, needed to know that they remember her, that the large chunk in his life that now felt empty used to be filled by her.

He had sent her a message, several, happy Hanukah, happy New Year, and late last night, I Love you. Whether she'd gotten them, read them, he had no idea… but there had been no reply.

She was the reason the day had been as difficult. Up until she'd left, it had always been interesting to watch her response to some of the valentines she'd received, because his little ninja had had far too many admirers for his liking. From that first valentine's they'd worked together, he'd been green with envy if she had lingered for too long on any given valentine. The last few valentines, he'd even chanced sending her one, much like Gibbs did with Abby, although she'd never figured it out. Which is what made it fun, because he knew her better than the most and his always seemed to remain in her drawer the longest, or became part of the personal paraphernalia on her desk.

He pushed away from the door, on any other night he would be willing to spend time with any of the others, but he did not fancy being the third wheel to anyone's party. Even less so if one of them again tried to set him up with a date. His heart was still too tender for such things. One did not fall as hard for someone and then simply got over them in a matter of a few short months. Who was he kidding? It had not felt like a few short months, it had felt as if a lifetime had drug by in the mean time. With everyone else being happy-happy-happy while he had to look on to the sickening sight of love and the exploitation by the commercialism of a day.

He poured himself a stiff one and the looked towards his movie collection, for a moment pondering which movie he should watch. But reading through the titles he quickly gave up on that idea. Far too many with romantic elements, a sign of how lovesick he had been at some time, too many of them he'd watched with her, especially the good ones, and too many others referred to in her presence… he did not need the reminders. He took his drink to the kitchen instead and opened the fridge, in hope of finding some form of distraction there. Only to find that what was contained within it, served as a reminder to him that he still had to go shopping.

He thought it over for a moment, knowing it would give him something to do, but just the thought of seeing more red hearts pasted in windows, along with lavish displays of chocolate hearts was enough drive him to the brink.

He upended his glass, welcoming the warm sensation that spread from his stomach and placed his glass in the sink. He'd promised himself he would not have more than one when he felt like he needed it. It had been one of the things he'd been working on: to be a better man, one she could find attractive, and his drinking had worried her. Although he had fought the lure of the bottle, many times, fought the need to drown his sorrows in one… But that would mean what was happening was causing him to spiral out of control, and he could not let it, should not let it.

He turned from the kitchen, pulling his phone from his pocket, needing to check if she'd not sent something. Looking at the screen, he contemplated sending her another message only he knew it would most likely remain unanswered. He had on several occasions contemplated tracking her number, if only to know where she was, but he'd resisted. He knew she needed space, that he needed to respect that, and that she would come back when she was ready. Only he had no idea when that would be, or if she would only return to collect her necklace.

He turned out the lights, opting for his bedroom. He was tired, it had been one of those dreadfully slow office bound days, which was possibly why he was as irritable. Switching on the light in his bedroom, his gaze landed on the bed, drawing a heavy sigh from him

When she had invited him to Israel initially, he had fostered so many hopes. Enough to purchase a bigger bed, one she would join him in at some stage… only everything had gone to hell.

He'd played with the idea of putting the other one back, but somehow it seemed wrong, like he'd given up on them, besides the new one seemed belong there. HE approached his wardrobe and selected a t-shirt and boxers from it, dropping them on the bed, before pulling out his gun and locking it in the safe. He shrugged his jacket and hung it up before making for the bathroom and his shower.

Since he intended to avoid all things romantic, movies, even the TV were off limits, he prepared for bed, possibly even read a boo. Ziva always said he should read more.

Having finished his shower, he pulled the well-worn t-shirt over his head and tugged up his boxers, then slipped between the sheets. He did not often sleep in the bed, it was too big, had too much space, had too many ghosts – even for a new one. He settled and reached for the book on his the nightstand.

He read only a few pages before his eyes grew heavy, as they usually did when he tried to read, and he gave up on the intention to read. He placed the book back on the nightstand and picked up the remote to turn out the light, before closing his eyes and allowing sleep to claim him.

Some time later, he shifted, his body instinctively drawn to the presence of another. He'd had the dream so many times before, that he fought to hang onto it; a remembrance of a reality, an experience, which had since remained only a fantasy, that it had become something he indulged in whenever his mind allowed it.

He absorbed the heat of her, the closeness of her. The feel of her so close. His hands automatically moved over her body, molding it to his, while at the same time familiarizing himself with it the heat and smoothness of her skin. He pushed her tank top up, seeking to touch every inch of her, to cup the softness of her breasts, to feel them respond to his touch. She shifted, her body responding to his unspoken requests, his name murmured on her lips. Hers was huskily whispered before he kissed the bare skin of her shoulder, wile simultaneously pushing, tugging at the top to get it off. And then it was, with all her soft and warm skin was there for him to explore, at will. Her nipples responded to his touch, tightening into hard little nubs. The ache in his loins familiar, strong and something he looked forward to slacking with her. His cock swelled, firming in anticipation of what was to come.

He felt her hand move, felt it move towards him, already anticipating her touch. His breath caught as it neared him. For a moment, a painfully long moment it halted its descend, slipping under the fabric of his boxers before continuing it's downward movement. Lower, lower, until it touched the head of him. He breath felt trapped in his lungs, he felt incapable of releasing it. his entire focus hhis entire being centred on her hand, on her touch, as it at first ghosted over him, there but at the samt time also feeling as if it was not. Her hand moved lower over him, her fingers trembling almost as much as his body was. He fought the desire to push up against her touch, to reach down and push her hand firmly against him, to demand the pleasure her touch bestowed him.

Just then her fingers moved, wrapping around him, and he could ho longer hold his breath, letting out a heartfelt sigh, sounding something between pain and pleasure; for that is what the memory had become.

Instinctively he sought her mouth, needed it, and then he lost himself in her touch. His hand moved to pull her closer, then moving lower to pull her pelvis closer. His hips pressed up into her touch, kept pace with it and at the same time wanted to move faster. He broke their kiss, breathing hard.

His entire body stiffened when she let go of him, her hand again moving, and within moments he moved to help. He felt the fabric slip down, felt her pull him from its confines. Her fingers for a moment traced the ridge of him, before again wrapping around him. His own hand moved, pushing her panties down, needing to touch her in the same way she was touching him. She shifted, helped him without letting go of him. His fingers drifted over her apex, lower trough her folds, then moved back to press against that nub he knew to be so sensitive already. She gasped his name, and he drew strength from it as he drew tiny circles around it, feeling her body tighten. He knew there would not be a lot of time to play. She was as hot to go as he was. He'd had her like that several times.

She shifted, as he knew she would. She was an impatient lover when hot, needing her release as badly as he needed his, and she took what she wanted. From the heat of her, from the way she pushed into his touch, he knew it would not be long. And like her, he liked being inside her when she came, when she gripped him and milked him. Her movements were swift, but then they always were. He had barely felt the heat of her before she was pressing down onto him, over him. His hands intuitively went for her hips, whether it was to guide her, help her or hold onto her, he did not know. She pushed down against him, taking him as deep into her as possible. Her muscles tightened against, around him. His head pushed into his pillow, his eyes pinched shut, his breathing hard as her hands braced against his chest, shifting her body into the optimal angle for her pleasure – she knew exactly where, how, and he'd watched her lose herself to the pleasure, grinding away against him, receiving all the stimulation she needed, desired.

She started to move, the pace hard, fast, moaning his name and something else, her fingers clenching at his chest, for a moment fisting. He reached for her hands, gripping them. She twisted her hands, their fingers lacing as she continued to ride him.

The warmth of her coaxing him along had him grunting her name in pleasure. Her grip on his fingers tightened, he felt her shift, altering the pace and he knew she was close. He could see her head fall back, even with his eyes pinched shut, holding onto the moment the sensation. As she reached for it, he thrust up against her, knowing that rough got her off faster than anything else. His body countered hers, his own pleasure growing. The tingling started, familiar, welcoming as he slapped unto her. The bed creaked under them.

Her hands started pulling against his, wanting free. During their time together, their hand had never remained clasped together when they came, both needing to hold onto the other as they lost themselves to the pleasure. It was no different, he needed to hold onto her, so that she could not disappear into the nigh again.

He let go of her hands, his own going to her hips as hers landed on his chest. His fingers gripped her hips, needing to hold her there. He was close, so close, when he felt her push down against him, hard, felt the tremors over and around him. Followed by the familiar keening she released. His fingers dug into her skin, his hips bucked against hers, gasps escaping his lips. Words of encouragement, words he could never remember afterwards, bust forth.

Then there was only heat and pleasure, intense pulses as he held her to him. His body drawn tight as it pumped his release into her. Her movements softened, just as his body went limb. Her head came to rest against his chest, her lips brushing the skin over his heart. The first time she had done that had been after she'd admitted her feelings to him.

His heart was still thudding in his chest, his breath coming in gasps, when she shifted, He moved to halt her, needing to hang onto the moment for a while longer, but he was too late already, having already slipped form her.

She shifted lower, before lowering her head to his chest, her ear over his heartbeat. He moved his legs allowing hers to nestle between them, her body partially covering his. They had lain like that for hours, once, unwilling to part, while but not ready to do more. His arms wrapped around her, holding her there.

"Sleep Tony," her familiar command came. Husky, soft. She loved to tell him that, to sleep afterwards, that he needed his strength. And she had had a point, she was demanding in bed, and he loved it. But he did not want to sleep. He wanted to remain there, with her, locked in the dream – for as long as he could. He wanted to remain there, where he did not have to face the reality of starting the day without a hope of seeing her…

Yet as her breathing eased and she moved, snuggling against him, he felt his eyes grow heavy and his mind shut down. His body relaxed and he knew he could not fight it, just as he knew he could and would return to it again.

He woke up the following morning, his body languid, heavy. The lack of fabric over his loins did not faze him, for it would not be the first time he'd woken in that manner. He shifted, and then froze. Suddenly too weary to move even an inch. The room was dimly lit, the early morning light just filtering through the windows, Yet he was too scared to look, for he knew there had been no one else in his bed the nigh before.

He drew in a deep breath, drawing with it a familiar scent, one which both excited and perified him. Petrified him because he did not need his mind playing tricks on him, he needed to distinguish whether he was sleeping, or not. But at the same time the scent excited him, because, for it to he there meant that she had to be there.

He shifted, possibly more carefully than he'd intended. He pinched his eyes shut and his hand shook as her reached out, lifting the covers as it inched towards the shape in bed with him. He wanted to whoop, cheer, sigh, do any of many things when it connected with warm, naked skin. He turned towards it, opening his eyes, only to look into the back of her head. But it was enough, more than enough to set his heart racing anew. His movements were swift as he gathered her together and pulled her back against him.

She hardly had a chance to respond before he had his arms wrapped tightly around her, breathing in her scent. He had no idea what to say to her how, to start a conversation, although his body knew what it wanted as it stirred and pressed against hers. He knew he could not let it happen, not again, not until they had spoken. Not until he knew why she was there, how she could have gotten there without him knowing about it.

"Tony, any harder and I will bruise," she mumbled. The tone was husky, possibly still from sleep but he knew her mind was already wide awake.

He lessened his hold, reluctantly, and wanted to tighten it as she shifted, only to realize that she was turning to face him.

"When did you get here?" he asked, not wanting to sound too desperate but needing to know at the same time.

His eyes locked with hers, for the first time in many months, and he noted their weary expression. Something in them told him that he might not like what she had to tell him.

"Late last night, or have you forgotten…" she left the rest unsaid, but he knew what she meant.

He could not bring himself to admit to her that he had similar dreams, on a regular basis, could not open himself up to such vulnerability, again.

"I did not mean that, I meant DC."

She shifted onto her back and he relaxed his hold, slightly, ready to tighten it if for any reason it appeared that she would slip away again. "I arrived yesterday afternoon."

"How? I would have known," he said, knowing that he'd placed both her passports on the alert list. He'd needed to know the moment she arrived in the country.

"I phoned Abby and asked her to have a look, I did not want you to know."

Abby's numerous glances the day before suddenly made sense, she'd never been able to hide things. Although Ziva's reason for doing something like that puzzled him, "Why not?" He demanded, his heart racing anew."

"It would have spoilt my surprise."

"Your surprise?" he asked, shocked, uncertain as to what he was to make of it.

"Tony, I know you promised that you would be here for me, if I needed you. But I had not expected you to wait for me. I phoned Abby to ask her if…" she left the rest unsaid, because did not need to say more.

"So you asked her to check if there were any alerts placed on your passports?"

"Yes," Ziva nodded, "before I booked my ticked."

"Who picked you up at the airport?"

"Abby. I made her promise to keep my being here secret, until I had spoken with you. She brought me over after arriving home, I had planned to surprise you, but you went to bed early, and I could not decide if I should remain, or phone Abby to collect me again."

"Why didn't you?"

" I was not certain if her exuberance was from my arrival, or if she had plans for the evening. I did not want to spoil it for her."

"So you snuck into my bed," Tony said, although he had not intended it to come out as a accusation, but it had, and he watched her flinch.

"I did not think you would mind. We have shared a bed before, yes, and I did not think it wrong."

Tony was uncertain, not knowing what he should say, or how to even begin to analyze his body's response to her. He did not want to ask if she had set out to seduce him, or what she had intended with her surprise, yet he needed to know if she had only meant to surprise him or if she was planning on staying. Drawing in a deep breath he went for the most difficult question first, the one that would tell him what he needed to know most, "How long are you staying?"

She lowered her lashes at that and pulled from his embrace. Already the tightening sensation settled around his chest.

"That is what we need to discuss. But not here." She said moving from him.

"Why not here?" he demanded, sitting up not understanding why she had come to DC if she did not intend to be honest with him.

"Because here," she gestured to the bed and his room, "…it is too easy to forget what is important, what should be discussed,"

Drawing in a fortifying breath, he realized what she had meant that they could not discuss it in bed. There had never been anything wrong with the passion between them. He knew as good as she did that their physical attraction could be a distraction enough. He felt a momentarily flash of relief, followed by a heavy sense of trepidation. He sensed that their earlier romp could have made things more difficult, especially since she was willing to talk. Moving it to a different venue meant that it was serious and he was uncertain whether he was ready for serious – especially if it did not go they way he wanted it to.

He watched as she rose from the bed and pulled on her clothes, before turning to face him. She looked at the bed for a moment, "It is an improvement on the last, yes."

Tony closed his eyes. it was not something he needed to be reminded of. He shifted, for a moment hesitating at his state of dress. He felt between the sheets for his boxers and pulled them on again, before rising from the bed and reaching for his robe. "Coffee?" he asked, not even bothering to check the clock. Time seemed as unimportant as it had been when he'd been looking for her.

Ziva nodded and followed him from the room.

He switched on the coffeemaker and snapped the cartridge into place, then reached into the cupboard for the sugar, cups and creamer.

Clenching his hands in order to keep their tremble under control, he turned to look at her, while waiting for the coffee to brew. He looked her over, noticing the changes in her. She seemed nervous, but at the same time there was a sense of calm, certainty in her. But it was different. She readily met is gaze, did not try to evade it, thus he had no idea as to what to make of it. In some ways she was the same determined woman he'd left behind in Israel, with nothing left to hide.

He turned his attention back to the coffee, pouring each of them a cup and adding the sugar and creamer, stirring her coffee before handing it to her

"Where do you want to sit?"

"Here is fine," she said pointing towards the table.

He moved his laptop out of the way and pulled out the chair for her, before moving to the other, sitting down. He took a sip of coffee and waited for her to start. He had already told her everything he felt she had needed to know in Israel.

She took a sip of coffee, hesitantly, the liquid still hot, and then lowered her cup to the table. Clearing her throat before stating, "I have come to a decision."

"I've gathered that," he said, not meaning to sound cold but also not wanting to stretch this out for however long it could be.

She looked at him and he knew she misunderstood the meaning, the intent of his words. He wanted to help her out, make it easier, but remained uncertain whether he should. Whether it would not just be Israel all over again, where he got to taste heaven, experience the closeness and what could be, for only a moment, before it is ripped from him.

"During my travels, I have come to make peace with many things." She started, placing her cup on the table, "…things I have done, whether they were intentional or not. But I have not been able to make peace with one thing."

"And what is that?"

"You."

It was said so firmly, with such certainty, that his grip tightened on the handle of his cup while he tried to maintain a calm appearance. "Me?" he asked, not liking the direction the conversation was going

"Yes, you." she said, then seemed to think things over for a moment before rising from her seat moving a few paces before she spoke." Things between us were left unfinished, uncertain, and I do not like that."

Neither had he, but it had been all she had given him in the end. "And you now want to right that?" His heart grew heavy at the words.

She nodded, "You are the one… thing I cannot seem to make peace with."

Tony thought her words over for a moment, uncertain as to what he should say. Her intent of visiting him as a "surprise" confused him even more.

"I have decided what I would like to do, now that I have made peace with my past. It is only you I cannot put in place yet."

"Why's that?"

"Because I am not certain of what you want."

"I told you what I want."

"But time has passed and your … desires may have changed since then."

Tony thought for a moment he understood the words but was uncertain of what she meant by them. Finally he drew together the courage to ask her, "What do you want, Ziva? What have you decided?"

Ziva looked at the floor for several moments, then glanced about the room, uncertainly, unwilling to meet his eyes as she spoke, "I have decided that I want to start a family, that I want to … be with someone I love and who loves me in return. That it is time for me to be a mother, and that it is the only thing I seek now that I have let go of the badge."

Her words had him go cold, he had no idea how to take them or what they could mean. "I see," Tony said, looking down at his cup noticing the firm grip he still had on it, his knuckles white. He had not even realized he was doing it. "And somehow I am preventing this?"

She did not answer him, after some time he looked up at her and noticed her uncertainty.

"You have been, remain a large part of that decision." She finally replied. "I wanted to speak with you, to put things to rest so that I could make the most suitable decision."

Tony's gaze dropped to the table, at the same time cursing the fact that it was made of glass, for the last thing he actually needed to see was the floor. The heavy sensation around his heart intensified, making it almost impossible to breathe. "What do you want from me?" He finally asked.

She tilted her head, before retaking her seat, but did not move to pick up her cup. She visibly swallowed before continuing, "I know who I want to start m family with, I just don't know if he feels the same."

"So why not just ask him?"

"I am trying to."

Her words caused him to hope. Hope like he has never before hoped.

"When we were together in Israel, you said that you do not care what I did as long as I came home. I need to know if you meant that, or if it was just something you said at the time, in the heat of the moment?"

Tony did not know how to reply, one side of him was screaming to yell out that yes, she should stay, but the other seemed too afraid to hope, that it could be too much to hope for. "I would not have said it if I had not meant it."

"Tony, you have often said things you do not mean in the past. It is sometimes difficult to determine which you do mean."

He knew he could not deny that, his habit of letting his mouth run had resulted in him saying many things he had not intended. "I meant it." he said, "…not that you seemed interested"

"I had a lot to resolve."

"Except me, it seems."

"You are not that easy, you have never been."

"Forgive me if I do not follow."

"Follow?" She questioned seeming confused. "I had hoped that you could tell me what you wanted, what you meant."

"It is what it is Ziva. I wanted you here, home, I don't care what you do I just wanted you, here."

"And if I told you that was not enough?"

Tony took a deep breath, before replying, "How can that not be enough."

"Because I need more than that."

"More than what?" he finally demanded.

"Than just being here, being in your life, but not quite part of it."

"Ziva' you've always been part of my life. You kinda barged into it the fist day you walked into the bullpen, taunting and teasing me…" he suddenly went quiet then asked, "Oh, you meant that part of my life?"

Ziva simply nodded,

"You want those things with me, now?" He dared not hope. Dared not go there seeing as she had not said anything outright.

"I know it is a lot to ask, but I needed to known, need to know that that is a possibility, before I can answer your question."

"You mean you'll stay, If I ask you to?"

"I want to try," she finally said, "…to see where we go. I know you are not easy to work with, and possibly just as hard to live with, but it is a great deal harder without you."

"How many babies do you want?" He quickly asked, only realizing what he'd asked once the words were out.

"I have not thought that far, but I would like at least two; a boy and a girl."

Tony rose from his seat "Now is as good a time as any to get starting on them."

He watched a frown form on her face as he pulled her from her chair, "Come Monday, I'm applying for a license, you can have whoever draw up the pre-nup or whatever it is you have done."

"Tony you are moving too fast, we are not even certain it will work."

"We know each other, have worked together. Besides I'm not gonna give you the chance to pull out of this one. So for now, I plan to start on the little DiNozzo's"

"And you think it will work?"

"I have the whole weekend to get you pregnant, I intend to use it."

 _Best Valentine's ever_ , he thought, several hours later, as he lay next to Ziva. His hand drifted down her side, lingering just above her hip. His fingers traced lower, drawing patterns over her lower abdomen, his thoughts drifting to the possibility, the chance of her possibly carrying his child. His palm flattened over her stomach, her own coming to rest over it.

"You are hoping?" she asked.

"Yes."

Her fingers laced with his, "So am I."

❤ *·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.· **TIVA** ·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·* ❤


End file.
